


one is never better than two

by stardazed_daydreams



Series: nameless [2]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, Alternate Universe - Human, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Human Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Human Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, POV Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Sharing a Bed, Sharing a Room, idk what else to tag this, the mcd is implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-07 19:31:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20822636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardazed_daydreams/pseuds/stardazed_daydreams
Summary: RemusandRoman.RomanandRemus.This is the way it was meant to be.





	one is never better than two

Roman Prince Kingsley was born on June 16th,10 minutes before his brother. 

This was something he’d always known, and something he intends to lord over his twin forever. 

From almost the moment they’re born, they’re bound together; they share a room, toys, and the same face. Identical in every way, one mirrors the other.

It is this exact sameness that makes them unique; thoughts echo from one to the other in near-perfect unison.

Their mother is the only person in the world who can tell them apart. She calls them her Prince and her Duke, and makes herself the Queen. 

Because they are RomanandRemus, they’re allowed to play alone most days, because it is harder to kidnap two children than one, and because their parents prefer it that way.

Their home is their castle; the backyard, their kingdom. 

It is a good life. 

* * *

Remus runs. 

Roman chases him. 

“You’re MINE!” Roman crows, and collides solidly with Remus’s back. They tumble together, collecting dirt and twigs in their hair. 

“Okay, you’re it,” Roman says, springing to his feet. “Count to ten!” 

“One, two, three, ten!” Remus says, and he jumps up, too. 

“THAT’S CHEATING,” Roman screeches, but he runs anyway. 

* * *

Their home is isolated. 

If you had asked Roman where he lived, he’d probably say, “how’d you get into my backyard?” Because he never left his house. He wouldn’t be able to tell you, and neither would Remus, and if you asked their parents you’d get a shotgun shell to the face.

Nobody would tell you it, but they live in the woods surrounding Wickhillis, Ohio. 

This was stupid of them- notoriously so. Nobody dared enter the woods in Wickhillis. 

Nobody except the Kingsleys. 

The residents of Wickhillis had not seen Mr. or Mrs. Kingsley in roughly a decade. All they know is that after their marriage, they wandered into the forest, their belongings in tow, and vanished, never to be seen again. 

Most assume they are dead. 

Most are wrong. 

Certainly nobody knows that not only are Mr. and Mrs. Kingsley  _ alive _ , but they are flourishing, with two children and hopes for a third. They grow all their own food, fence their house off in iron, and knot bells in their shoelaces.

Roman and Remus carry matching iron pendants, and they decorate their hair with red berries and daisies. They play swords with sticks made of rowan. 

It is for their safety, even if they don’t understand it. 

In their desperation to get away from people, the Kingsleys have hidden themselves amongst the fairies. 

* * *

Their home may be isolated, but it is safe. 

Remus and Roman learn from old textbooks and experience. They are well-versed in the ins and outs of gardening and sewing, and they know the secret ingredient to their mothers’ famous pot pie. 

They are well-loved, Roman more so than Remus, even if they don’t know that yet. They watch old VHS tapes of Disney movies, enthralled by the dashing princes and the heartwarming songs. 

Roman dons a crown of rowan and chases Remus around the house. 

Remus is always the villain and Roman is always the hero; it is who they are, it is who they will always be. 

Their father is distant. He talks little and smiles less, but he’s comforting in his solidness, and he reads to them as they fall asleep. 

Most days, he forgets which one is which.

He tries, but he fails. 

Their mother is effortless. She is made of warmth and love, it seems, and she sings to herself when it rains. She teaches them how to make daisy chains and pie. They love her with everything they have. 

She is not perfect, either, but she hides it better.

She tries, and disguises her failures as success.

They are a happy family, and a safe one. 

But they are not perfect. 

* * *

Roman has the top bunk.

“It’s because I’m  _ older _ ,” he tells Remus smugly. 

Remus throws things at him. 

From the bottom bunk.

Because Roman gets the top one. 

It doesn’t matter, anyway. Remus spends half of his nights up on Roman’s bunk, because he gets scared in the middle of the night and climbs up to be with his twin. 

They’re safer together, huddled under Roman’s red-and-white quilt and making shadow puppets on the walls. 

They are ten, and life is good.

“Remus!” their mother calls from the living room, “collect me some more firewood, will you?” 

Remus groans loudly. “Why is it always  _ me _ ,” he grumbles, pulling on his boots. 

“Because I’m the oldest,” Roman says.

Remus huffs and storms out of the room. 

Roman never sees him again. 

* * *

“I don’t understand,” Roman says, nearly in tears, “where is Remus?”

His mother wails, burying her face in her hands, and his father looks at Roman with stern eyes. 

“We told you,” he says firmly, “he’s gone.”

“But  _ where is he? _ ” Roman presses. 

“He’s  **dead** , Roman!” His father yells, stomping his foot so hard the windows of their house shake, “he left the yard and now he’s gone  **forever.”**

Roman spent that night on Remus’s bunk, staring up at the underside of his bed and clinging to the stuffed octopus their mother had made them.

Nobody sleeps. 

  
  



End file.
